The Spanish Main
by Farris
Summary: Finally: Finis. Kat's plans go awry, Laurent finds himself in a tight spot, and a fat aristocrat gets what's coming to him. Three whole new chapters of combat, romance and improper ladies on the high seas!
1. Chapter 1: Escape

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except Kat-the rest belong to RKO Radio Pictures, if they even exist anymore.  
  
This is based off of the old movie called "The Spanish Main", with Paul Heinreid and Maureen O'Hara, which is an absolutely wonderful pirate movie, except I don't like Maureen O'Hara. She's whiney. Solution: make her walk the plank and introduce my own character. Hence Kat exists. Yay for Kat! Anyway, this is my idea of a good time, particularly after spending way too much time thinking about "Pirates of the Carribean". Then again, no one can have too much POTC! Especially Captain Jack......anyway, R&R and I'll put up more chapters!  
  
The ship tossed and groaned horribly, but Kat made no protest. She couldn't, if she wanted to avoid discovery. Storms were not rare on the Spanish Main, though this one was particularly bad. It was the year 1723; ships of the merchant trade were the lifeblood of the empires of the world, and it was on one such ship that Katarina had concealed herself. Not to see the world, or seek her fortune on foreign shores, but to escape a fate worse than facing the dangers of the Spanish Main.  
  
It had been days since the ship had left the port in Mexico, and she was beginning to feel that she had spent all her life at sea. The voices of the men working on deck were almost too much to bear; she wanted to be up there too, smelling the salt air and feeling the splash of the waves. That was why she had chosen to escape on a ship-because she loved the sea. But she couldn't risk going out on deck unless she absolutely had to. Her luck had been good up to now, but there was no telling what might happen if she wasn't careful. Not only was she a stowaway, she was also a female-and there was nothing more unacceptable than for a female to travel alone. The thought of what might happen to her should someone discover her sex was unbearable.  
  
Before she'd left, Kat had taken great pains to put together a disguise. Now, she checked her loose boy's clothing and tightly braided-and- pinned hair. It was silly of her to keep her long hair, she knew, but she couldn't give up the one vanity that she'd ever really enjoyed. Its chestnut color was unlike anyone's in her family, and she was glad of the difference. It made it that much simpler to leave them behind her. "I can't ever go back to them," she whispered to herself, repeating the knowledge that had carried her this far. "Not ever-not after what they were going to do." It was madness for a young woman, barely out of her teens, to do what she was doing now, but Kat knew there was only one other choice. And she didn't even want to consider it.  
  
She grabbed onto some rope that was hanging nearby as the ship lurched violently. Four days she'd hid herself in the dark hold; four days of rationing her food and water, and praying that the ship would come to port soon. Now, she just wanted the storm to end. How much more of this could she endure? She had never suffered from seasickness before, but after this storm, she was beginning to think that she would never be able to eat anything again.  
  
Kat stiffened and clutched more tightly at the rope as she heard footsteps coming down the ladder into the hold. No one had come down here in all the time she'd been hidden; why did they have to start now, in the middle of a storm? She tried not to breathe as the person came closer. The steps slowed, paused, then moved on, more quietly than before. The sound stopped again, and with startling suddenness, a hand reached into her hiding place. She leaned as far back as she could, trying desperately not to make a sound. For one terrifying moment, she could do nothing but stare at the hand as it came closer and closer to her face. In another moment, the man would be able to touch her.then, he grabbed hold of a length of rope hanging right in front of her face.  
  
Kat didn't move a muscle as the sailor's hand withdrew. As long as she stayed absolutely still, there was no way for the man to know she was there. She heard his footsteps retreating, then the creak of the ladder as he began to climb up to the deck. Slowly she let out her breath, relaxing her grip on the rope she had been holding.  
  
The ship chose just that moment to sway so violently that she lost her balance. With a cry of despair, Kat tumbled out from behind the ropes, rolled head over heels into the hold, and struck the wooden planks of the wall with a loud thud. Before she could untangle her limbs, the man had jumped back down the ladder. A rough hand grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her up, and she found herself looking into the face of a tall, blond and curly-haired sailor.  
  
"So, we've got a stowaway, have we?" he said in a pleasant-sounding, though disapproving voice. He had an accent that Kat had never heard before; she suspected he was one of the Dutch sailors that they had taken on in Mexico. "How long have you been here?"  
  
He doesn't know I'm a girl, Kat realized. "Since the port in Mexico," she said out loud, trying to make her voice sound as a boy's might. "I'm trying to get to New Granada."  
  
The man scrutinized her with pale gray-blue eyes. "Hiding for more than a week, eh? And I suppose you've been stealing from the ship's stores as well, haven't you?"  
  
She shook her head. "I brought my own food and water. I'm no thief."  
  
"A smart stowaway, then. Do you know what the penalty would be if someone told the captain you were here?"  
  
She met his eyes defiantly. "I know it. Are you going to report me?"  
  
The sailor looked at her for a moment, then grinned. "I don't think I will. After all, some of us sailors started as stowaways ourselves. No, I'll help you to get to New Granada, boy. What's your name?"  
  
Thinking quickly, Kat came up with the name of one of her brothers. "Carlo," she said.  
  
"Well, Carlo," the man said, clapping her on the shoulder, "If you can keep quiet, I think I might manage to see that you have some extra rations every few days." He winked. "That ought to hold you until we reach New Granada."  
  
"Thank you," Kat said gratefully. Not only had she not been turned over, the man was going to help her! "I'll stay quiet. And I won't tell a soul that you helped me." After a pause, she added, "What's your name?"  
  
The man grinned again. "Laurent," he said. "And I'd better get back up on deck-they'll be wanting this rope." With that, he turned and climbed back up the ladder, closing the hatch tightly behind him. Kat stayed where she was for a moment, taking deep, steadying breaths. She was simply so relieved that she hadn't been turned in that she couldn't think of anything else. Then, practicality took over as the ship pitched again. She climbed back behind the piles of extra ropes and rigging and settled in, prepared for a rough night. Kat sighed; it would be a long time before she could go out in the fresh air again.  
  
  
  
When Kat finally saw the deck, it was not in the manner that she'd expected-or wanted. For the past week, Laurent had brought her hard crackers and dried meat, just enough to live on. She never saw him, but there was always a little food tucked into a napkin next to her when she woke each day. It was no feast, but she was very grateful for it-if it weren't for him, she would have been starving by now, and had to steal from the ship's stores. Her own food had run out days ago, something that annoyed her; she hadn't planned as well as she'd thought.  
  
One day, though, the sounds that represented the normal routine of the ship were interrupted. Kat, listening closely, heard scuffling, then a single set of footsteps pacing the deck above her. A man was speaking loudly-not enough for her to make out words-but she guessed it was the captain. What she couldn't guess was why he was speaking. She listened attentively for a few moments, but the wood of the deck muffled the man's words.  
  
Suddenly, the hatch opened and bright sunlight flooded into the hold. Kat, startled, ducked quickly into the ropes and boxes. It couldn't be Laurent, she knew; he always came at night. Her heart pounded as she tried to flatten herself against the side of a crate. She barely breathed. If she were discovered by anyone else on the crew, she would be beaten-or worse.  
  
But her luck had run out. Before she could dodge away, a pair of muscular arms reached around the crate and concealing piles of ropes and grabbed her. She gasped and kicked out at the person who held her, trying to break his grip. It did little good, and the sailor dragged her out from her hiding place. It wasn't Laurent, but a hard-faced man with a rough beard and a multitude of scars. His hand went over her mouth, and she tried to bite him; it only earned her a cuff that made her head spin. Ignoring her struggles, the man lifted her bodily up the ladder and into the glaring daylight.  
  
The ship's crew-mostly rough sailors, with a few of the armored soldiers always found on a Spanish ship-was lined up on the deck. She saw Laurent, but tried not to look at him or seem as if she recognized him. The penalty for harboring a stowaway was nearly as bad as that of being one, and she didn't want him to share in it. A tall, bearded man was glaring at her-the captain. The man who held her took his hand away from her mouth, but held both of her arms behind her with the other.  
  
"A stowaway," the captain barked. "One of you has been stealing food and water for him, and I want to know who." The line of men was silent; no one dared speak. The captain paced down the line, staring into the face of each man, then walked back to Kat and grabbed her collar, lifting her off her feet; the sailor released her hands. "Who helped you, boy?" the captain demanded. When she merely glared at him, he gave her a violent shake. Before she realized the danger, her hat flew off and the long braid of her hair tumbled down her back.  
  
There were whispers and surprised glances from all of the men, and the captain leered unpleasantly. "A girl as well," he sneered. He brought his face close to her own, shifting his grip to her hair and pulling hard. "You do know what happens to stowaways, don't you, wench?" He glared at her, an ugly light in his eyes. "You'll take the punishment if you don't name your confederate!"  
  
Kat's eyes flicked to Laurent, but she looked away, saying nothing as she tried to jerk her hair from the captain's grasp. He only pulled tighter. "Who helped you?" he growled, giving it a vicious yank.  
  
"No man helped me," she gasped, clenching her teeth against the sudden pain. Whatever punishment the captain had planned, she wasn't about to make Laurent share it with her.  
  
The captain stared at her for a moment, then nodded to one of his men. "Wench or not, there's a penalty due from anyone who stows away on my ship. Bring the Cat," he said coldly. "Tie her." Kat couldn't help shuddering. The Cat was a vicious leather whip with nine tails-and very deadly. Few men she'd ever seen or heard of had survived an encounter with the thing, and those that had were ruined for life. Two of the soldiers came forward, dragged her to the mast and bound her arms around it. Another stood by, slapping the Cat against his boot. "Forty lashes," the captain ordered. She had to bite back the cry of despair that rose in her throat; forty lashes was the full penalty, and no man, much less a girl, could survive it.  
  
Kat could do nothing but listen helplessly to the soldier's footsteps as they approached her. She clenched her teeth. Suddenly, the Cat whistled through the air and struck her back. The pain was incredible, like having white-hot knives burning into her flesh. The blows kept coming; after the first few, she couldn't tell if she were screaming or not. The pain obliterated her senses. She sagged lower and lower with each cut, with only her bonds holding her up.  
  
Suddenly, a shout went up from the crow's nest. "Ship off the starboard bow!" the man bellowed. The soldier dropped the whip and rushed to the rail with the captain and the rest of the men, leaving Kat to slump against the mast, shaking dripping with blood. She couldn't see what was happening, but what she heard told her enough.  
  
"Is it a merchant ship?"  
  
"Nay, there's no flag."  
  
"Aye, there is-look!"  
  
"Pirates!"  
  
"Not just any pirates-the Barracuda himself!" This last shout brought Kat back from the beginnings of a faint. She knew little about sailing, but everyone had heard of the scourge of the Spanish Main, the pirate known only by the name of his ship.  
  
"Bring her about, and ready those cannon!" the captain barked. "Come on, men, she's too sweet a ship for a black-hearted pirate! She won't stand a chance. Hard to starboard! Trim those sails!"  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Kat watched as the sailors went into a flurry of activity, loading the cannon and rolling them into place, climbing and adjusting the rigging. She tried to twist around to see the other ship, but her back and arms protested bitterly, and she abandoned the effort when she nearly lost consciousness. There was nothing she could do, bound and beaten as she was.  
  
The ship shuddered under the booming shock of its first cannon fire. Huge splashes and the crunching of wood told her that the pirate ship was firing as well. She could do nothing but cling weakly to the mast when the ship lurched violently from a hit. Each shock pounded in her head and rattled her bones.  
  
The two ships curvetted and swung about, chasing each other, but the Barracuda was far too fast for the merchant ship; one well-placed shot snapped the main mast halfway up, crippling her in an instant. Before Kat could even turn her head, the pirate ship was alongside and a horde of yelling men were clamoring onto the deck. The sailors drew their swords and met the pirates with a brave defense, but they were easily outnumbered.  
  
She flattened herself against the mast, trying to stay out of the way of the battle. No one paid her any heed; the men were too intent on saving their own skins to bother looking at her, and thankfully, none of the pirates seemed to care. Kat winced as she took a cut on the cheek from one badly aimed blow, and struggled to free her wrists from the ropes.  
  
Suddenly, another blow sliced into the ropes, and they snapped. She tumbled to the deck and scrambled to get out of the way of the fighters, taking refuge in a corner next to the huge water barrel that sat on the deck. She stared in wide-eyed amazement and fear at the battle. It was obvious that the pirates were going to win-but what would happen to her?  
  
Kat heard a man laughing, and looked up in time to see someone cut one of the ropes that held up the rigging. A yardarm creaked and snapped, and plummeted downward-straight at her. She had no time to move; the beam struck her in the head and knocked her to the deck, burying her under rope and yards of sail. The sounds of battle faded, and she gave up the fight to stay conscious as a welcome blackness descended on her. 


	2. Chapter 2: Discoveries

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except Kat—the rest belong to RKO Radio Pictures, if they even exist anymore.  
  
A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to my ONE AWESOME REVIEWER, DJ Caligula! Woohoo! Someone actually liked this! As a token of my extreme joy at having someone actually read my story, I am awarding DJ Caligula a Paul Henreid clone (as soon as I invent a time machine and a way to clone him...eh, details). To anyone else...please, please, please, input! Feed me! Feed me! Feed me Seymour...oops, sorry, random musical digression there. Anyway, back to our piratical escapades...  
  
Kat woke to a wave of pain. Her eyes flew open and she cried out. Someone was carrying her, and it was the pressure of an arm on the broken skin of her back that had roused her. As her vision cleared, she realized that she looked into gray-blue eyes. "So, this is the wench, is it?" a familiar voice inquired. Laurent smiled down at her as he carried her across the deck of the pirate ship.  
  
"You!" she gasped. "But—the pirates—how did you escape?"  
  
His grin grew even wider. "My dear girl, I am a pirate."  
  
Kat's eyes widened, and she struggled against his grip. "Let me down!" she cried. "You—Laurent, put me down!"  
  
"Stop that," he said, laughing. "There's no need for alarm."  
  
"No!" she cried, twisting. She managed to free one leg; then, a crate swung over the side of the ship, and Laurent had to duck to avoid being hit. His arm slid up her back, and the resulting flood of agony from her broken skin swamped her. Her vision was washed over with black and a thin ringing filled her ears.  
  
The next thing she knew, a cool cloth touched her forehead. "You ought not to have done that," an amused voice said.  
  
Kat opened her eyes. She was in a lavishly decorated room, filled with fine furniture and rich fabrics, but then her gaze rested on the man sitting next to her, and she could do nothing but stare. The humble Dutch sailor had been transformed by the battle; his shirt was ripped, his hair flew about his face, and a bloodied sword was strapped to his side. He certainly looked the part of a pirate, but she knew he wasn't just any buccaneer. The cabin, quite obviously his, was far too luxurious for any common sailor, pirate or no.  
  
"You're the Barracuda, aren't you?" she accused.  
  
"At your service," he said. He set aside the damp cloth he'd been holding to her forehead, then stood and favored her with a sweeping bow. "You've had a rough time of it, and no mistake," he added, retrieving the cloth and dipping it into a bowl of water.  
  
She pushed his hand aside when he brought the cloth near her face. Kat levered herself slowly off the bed—Laurent's bed, she realized—and let out a shaky breath. "What are you going to do with me, Señor?" she asked wearily, though she barely cared what happened next. Her back was one solid mass of pain, her arms ached unbearably, and she could feel blood trickling from the cut on her cheek. The bed was reassuringly solid under her hands, but her head swam and her vision wavered still.  
  
Laurent—the Barracuda—studied her for a long moment. She could hear the sounds of raucous celebration from the men outside, and the gentle slap of waves against the hull below. His gaze was disconcerting, the silence ominous, and it was a relief when he finally broke it. "For now," he said, "I intend to deal with those wounds." He stood and collected strips of cloth, a jar, and a clean shirt from various parts of the cabin. "Turn around," he said, sitting on the bed beside her. Kat opened her mouth, about to protest, but stopped when Laurent frowned. "And I'll hear no complaints of maidenly shyness. Those cuts need bandaging, and I very much doubt you'll want anyone else to do it."  
  
She flinched as he eased her bloody shirt over her head, biting her tongue to keep from protesting. The bandages she'd used to bind her breasts flat were still intact, though stained, and Laurent didn't try to remove them. He took up the wet cloth once more and began cleaning out her cuts. "Why are you helping me?" she asked, trying to ignore the burning pain.  
  
Kat heard him chuckle. "I've taken a liking to you, my dear," he said. "Although I never would have guessed that you were a girl. That's a dangerous thing, besides being a stowaway. What were you doing on a merchant ship?"  
  
She turned to look at him, but his expression was serious. "I was running away," she replied.  
  
"From what?"  
  
Kat hesitated. "Marriage," she said finally. "And my family."  
  
He stopped dabbing at her back with the rag and smeared a cool substance on her skin. "This should help the cuts," he said, and handed her the shirt. "Put that on." He turned around. As she slipped the soft linen over her head, he commented, "What could have been so terrible about a marriage that you would risk your life to escape it?"  
  
She tied the laces at the shirt's neck. "The man," she replied flatly. When Laurent turned back and tried to clean the blood away from the cut on her cheek, she did her best to avoid his touch. He caught her chin in his hand and fixed her with his beautiful eyes. "Who is the man?" he asked.  
  
"Let me go," she said.  
  
"He must be a tyrant, to drive you so far from your home."  
  
She tried to pull away from him. "He is. But you wouldn't believe me if I told you his name, and I see no reason why I should."  
  
His hand was gentle but firm in its grip, and he cleaned the cut quickly with the cloth despite her efforts to make him release her. Dipping his fingers into the jar of salve, he dabbed it on the wound, then let go of her. "You didn't tell the captain that I helped you. Why?"  
  
Kat scowled, rubbing her face where his fingers had been. "Why should it matter to a pirate? Your skin is intact, isn't that what's important?"  
  
He simply looked at her for a moment. "I find it most unusual that a girl of noble blood would choose to take a beating rather than betray the man who would help a stowaway."  
  
She stared. "How did you know that I'm noble?"  
  
Laurent took her hands and turned them over. "These are the hands of a cultured lady, not one who is used to working," he said, remarking on the smooth skin of her palms. "No one but a noble would have skin so unblemished." He released her hands and reached one of his own up to rest his fingers on her cheek. "Although I think you will have a pretty scar there, when that heals."  
  
Kat dodged away from his hand, stood, and glared at the grinning man. "It is through no fault of my own that I am noble," she snapped. "I didn't ask to be born one—nor a woman. I'd have been anything else if I had the choice."  
  
He seemed amused by her outburst. "I believe you would. But you took a beating rather than reveal me—that is something that a noble would never do."  
  
Her eyes flashed, and she clenched her fists. "You doubt me? I—" She paused, sighed, and let her hands open slowly. "I am Contessa Katarina del Arrigantora, daughter of the Viceroy of Mexico." She looked away. "I didn't point you out because you didn't deserve the blame for my actions. You helped me, Señor, and I don't betray those who help me." After a moment, she looked back at him. "So you know who I am. Does it surprise you at all?"  
  
He grinned infuriatingly. "Perhaps—Katarina? I should have known that you were no Carlo."  
  
"Kat," she said curtly.  
  
This only served to make him grin even more. "You have fire, Katarina, I will grant you that." He leaned back on the bed and toyed with his belt- knife. "You mentioned a marriage. What's so terrible about that?"  
  
She chafed at his use of her proper name, but chose to let it go. "Being bargained off to the Viceroy of New Granada, that's what. How would you feel, Señor, if you were to be as good as sold to a man you'd never seen?"  
  
"I should not like it any more than you," Laurent said. "And I know the man you speak of. I've known him for quite some time." His eyes hardened; she noticed the change in his expression, but said nothing. "I don't blame you for not wanting to marry him. He is not a particularly attractive man."  
  
Kat found that she couldn't stand still, and began to pace. The deck swayed under her feet, but she paid it little notice. Weeks of life at sea had accustomed her to the pitch and roll of a sailing vessel. "And what of the crew of the merchant ship?" She threw the words at him, building once more a wall of anger that disguised the turmoil of her emotions.  
  
Laurent shrugged. "Those who choose to join me and swear an oath of allegiance will live. The rest..."  
  
She could guess what would happen to them. She'd seen the dead bodies of the merchant sailors draped over the railings. "I'll ask you again: What are you going to do with me, Señor?" she asked, planting her feet firmly and resting her hands on her hips. Her eyes flashed with the challenge.  
  
He looked her over appraisingly. "I thought perhaps that we might put you up for auction at the market in Tortuga." When all the color left her face at once, he burst out laughing. "Forgive me, my girl. I couldn't resist. No, until I decide what I will do with you, you are my honored guest."  
  
Kat scowled once more, but inwardly she gave way to a flood of relief. The man was wholly unpredictable, and she suspected that had she angered him, he might have made good on his words. A glance at the windows of the cabin told her that night was approaching. "And is there a bunk where your honored guest might stay for the night?" she asked, doing her best to keep the relief out of her voice. "Or do I share the captain's bed as well as his hospitality?"  
  
Laurent stood. "I may be a pirate, my lady Contessa, but I have some sense of propriety. You may sleep here," he said gallantly, "and I will make do with a hammock." He stood, and she watched, puzzled, as he crossed the cabin and lifted the lid of a large chest. When Kat stretched onto her toes, she could see that it was filled with clothing—and not all of it men's. Delicate lace and ribbons spilled over the edge of the chest as he dug through the clothing. Finally, he pulled out a long white frilly something. "I ought to provide you the proper attire," he said, tossing it to her.  
  
When Kat held it up, she found it to be a nightgown, made of soft fabric and cut in a manner more fitting of a courtesan than a lady. "Brabant lace," Laurent said. "The finest on the Spanish Main."  
  
She looked at him. "You must be joking," she said incredulously. "I can't wear something like this. It isn't proper—or practical."  
  
"Joking—no, not at all!" he said, obviously enjoying himself. "I am not concerned with practicality, my dear Katarina. I should like to see you as a lady—for all that you are a strong-willed, ill-tempered lady. Put that on." When she glared angrily at him, he walked up to her and looked down at her face. "Put that on, or I'll throw you to the crew without it."  
  
Kat thought that he might still be joking—but she wasn't about to take any chances. She was, after all, still his prisoner, no matter what he might call her. "All right," she said quietly. "Must you watch me put it on?"  
  
His face broke into a smile. "I should have known that would concern you. No, I will respect your sense of maidenly virtue." He turned and walked into the next room. "I'm waiting."  
  
With a sigh of resignation, Kat began to undress, realizing that this was as much modesty as she could expect on the ship. She discarded the comfortable boy's clothing, folding it neatly, and began to wrestle with the lacing and ties that the nightgown required. When she was finally finished, she shook her head. "This is the most absurd garment I've ever seen," she said with well-bred disgust.  
  
Laurent looked around the corner of the doorframe. "Oh, but it is most becoming," he told her with an appraising look. "You look quite...uncomfortable, Contessa." He laughed when she snorted. "Go on, into bed with you. We put into Tortuga tomorrow. Good night." He went out on deck, closing the door on a very annoyed and perplexed young woman. With a sigh and a shake of her head, Kat gave in to her exhaustion and climbed into the bed. 


	3. Chapter 3: Tortuga

Disclaimer: Still don't own Laurent or his minions. Wish I did, 'cause they're cool. Want pirates. Yarr.

And yes, Kat does put up a fuss about the nightgown. If you ever see the original film, you'd understand. Most worthless lacy thing I've ever seen - off-the-shoulder, yards of skirt, so low-cut it would fall off if she breathed. I have a thing against impractical fancy clothes. ;-)

The clanging of the ship's bell and the loud shouts of the pirates woke Kat the next day. _Tortuga_, she thought with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. The town was well known to be a haven for dangerous cutthroats and pirates—but then, she _was_ traveling with the Barracuda, the worst of the lot. She did her best to struggle out of the nightgown and dressed in her boy's clothing, which was infinitely more comfortable. Her hair was too long to style without the help of a maid, so she simply rebraided it into the long plait that hung past her waist.

When she found a mirror, she almost couldn't believe that it held the reflection of the same girl who'd been dressed in thick brocade and lace only weeks before. Her hair had begun to curl, her skin was rough and dry, and of course she had the unhealed cut on one cheek. But her face was different, somehow…older, wearier. Perhaps a little wiser. Just as she was scrubbing a smudge from her cheek, there was a knock at the door. "Katarina!" came Laurent's disgustingly cheerful voice. "Are you awake and decent?"

"Yes," she called. When he came bounding in the door, she leaned on the railing and looked at him. He had obviously dressed in another cabin of the ship; his clothing was all velvet finery and gold trimmings, complemented by a ridiculously large hat that had been adorned with long ostrich feathers.

She might have laughed—but he _did_ look handsome in those clothes.

Laurent shook his head. "My dear Contessa, you cannot continue to wear such clothing if you are going to accompany me ashore," he said with a smile. Crossing over to the chest he'd opened the night before, he pulled out a mass of lace and delicate fabric. "You should dress to befit your station."

It was Kat's turn to shake her head. "In a harbor town? What a ridiculous notion. That thing would be in tatters before the day's end. I won't wear it—not even if you threaten to throw me out to the crew without it."

For one nerve-wracking moment, Laurent looked as if he might carry out his earlier threat—but then, his lips curved into a wide smile. "I should have guessed that no one with a temper like yours was going to give in so easily. But you're going to wear something better than those rags."

He disappeared for a moment into another room, then came back out carrying a pair of velvet breeches, a silk shirt, and fine leather boots. Kat gaped slightly at him for a moment, then took them with a smile. Here was someone who finally understood her—and she had found him in the most unlikely place of all. "I'll be ready in a moment, Señor," she said.

The trip into Tortuga was one of the strangest Kat had ever taken. For most of the day, she stood near Laurent and watched as he directed the unloading of the goods stolen from the merchant ship. There seemed to be hundreds of the same rough and seasoned men that she'd seen on the _Barracuda_, all clamoring up and down rigging, or carrying chests and boxes about the docks, or bringing aboard new provisions of food and water. It was fascinating, and she hardly noticed that the midday meal someone handed her consisted of stale bread and hard cheese. She didn't care, not when there was so much to see. Some of the men looked at her with confusion, or amusement, or even outright bawdiness, but no one bothered her when they saw that she was with the Barracuda. There were some advantages to the infuriating man, after all. When the afternoon dragged on into evening, he called out to his men, "All of you who want to collect your pay, meet me at the sign of the Turtle by nightfall!" A cheer went up from the crowd, and the work pace all but doubled.

On the way to what she assumed was going to be a tavern, Laurent pointed out all the different parts of the bustling seaport to Kat. She didn't mind that it was loud, dirty, and dangerous. The experience was too vivid, too heady to think about danger. This was living; this was what she had always secretly hoped for, but never been able to have.

The tavern, when they reached it, was the loudest and rowdiest of all the places she saw. There were so many sailors there that Kat couldn't even begin to count them, and all of them were eating, drinking, or dancing to the nautical music being played. When Laurent walked in, he was greeted with cheers and laughter. Everyone seemed to know and respect him; most of them were curious about Kat, but he ignored them and pulled her through the crowd. When they reached the largest table in the place, she noticed that there was a rather drunk man—dressed in clothing that might have once been as fine as Laurent's, but was now faded—sitting at the head. Others were shaking him, obviously trying to get him to move, but he ignored them. Kat guessed that the seat was usually reserved for the Barracuda, and hoped there wasn't going to be trouble.

Laurent strode up to the table, still pulling her, and flung his hat down onto the stained wood. The drunken man looked at it, up at him, then levered himself out of the seat and went to stand in a corner, glaring. Laurent pulled out the chair—but instead of sitting in it himself, offered it to Kat as any courtly man might have done for a lady. She sat, surprised, and confused, and sneaked a glance at him. Laurent was laughing and clapping another man on the shoulder, and exchanging loud greetings with others. The Barracuda was obviously in his element, but he was still different from the rest of the buccaneers who filled the tavern. He had something about him, something of honor and breeding that Kat instinctively recognized. After all, she had spent her entire life among people who idealized those qualities in a man.

Abruptly, the noise in the tavern died down, and Kat could hear footsteps coming down the stairs that led to the upper floors. She twisted in her seat in time to see a woman with short curly hair, dressed much the same as she—in breeches, shirt and boots—leaning over the rail. She wore a sword and dagger, both well used, and Kat guessed that this was not a woman to be trifled with.

"Well, rip me if it's not the Barracuda!" she shouted, heading for Laurent. When she reached him, the woman thumped him on the chest, then pulled him into a kiss. Kat kept quiet and watched, uncertain of what to do. When the woman broke away, she looked Laurent over, pulling back the front of his coat as if searching for something. "Well, where is it?" she demanded.

"Sorry, I didn't bring one this time," Laurent said with a smile.

"No lace nightgown? Laurent, you worthless dog. Who's been keeping his feet warm?" she called out into the room jokingly. There was a little laughter—then, the woman noticed Kat sitting in the Barracuda's chair. "What's this?" she asked acerbically.

Laurent put a hand on Kat's shoulder. "May I present my friend Anne Bonnie? This is the Contessa Katarina del Arrigantora, Anne." Kat nodded politely to the older woman.

Anne snorted. "A Contessa!" she said, then laughed. "He says it's a Contessa! She's a small fish for such a big title, that's for sure. You'd do better to throw her back, Laurent." She turned an appraising eye on Kat. "Well? Is it true?"

Kat stood and looked unflinchingly into Anne's eyes. "It is."

Anne shook her head and punched Laurent lightly in the shoulder. "You Dutch codfish! If there was a drop of honest blood in you I'd let it out at your throat. All these months I've known you—I thought you'd have more sense than to pick up a lady—and a lady like this! She'd not last a moment at sea!"

Her comments were met with laughter, and she continued. "I'll bet you got that cut from a hairpin!" Anne took Kat's chin in a mocking grip. "Before _I_ kept you, I'd have a look at your teeth!"

Kat wouldn't stand for it any more. She'd had enough of being insulted by this smug woman. She flung the hand away from her chin, whipped back her arm, and punched Anne in the face as hard as she could. Her action was met with surprised exclamations from the others in the tavern; Anne staggered back, then recovered and drew her sword, leveling it at Kat's head. "Say your prayers, my pretty," she hissed.

Kat stood stock-still as the sword's point came closer, but before it could reach her, Laurent stepped in and grabbed Anne by the shoulders, putting himself between the two. "Stop it, Anne," he ordered.

"I don't need your protection, and certainly not against her," Kat snapped. Laurent broke into a grin, obviously surprised at her reaction.

Anne tried to push free. "As if any of your kind had the courage to fight their own battles!" she spat. "No, you wouldn't—you're the nobility, hiding behind your paid protection! If you've got the guts to say the word, I'll slit you like a pigeon, you—"

"I'm sure you'd much rather fight pigeons, Mistress Bonnie," Kat taunted. "But I'd rather you stand behind your words and fight me instead. Or would you be too spineless to stand the length of the table and face me with a pistol?"

"I've a mind to and a heart to, you poppet!" Anne retorted, still trying to break free of Laurent.

"That's enough," he said, letting Anne go.

She turned and shouted to a man across the room. "What do you say, Jonas Stohler? Am I to be struck by this pigeon without satisfaction?"

"You'll get your satisfaction from me if you want, Anne—" Laurent began, but he was interrupted by the man across the room.

"Well, according to the Orders and Articles of the Brotherhood of the Coast, parties striking each other shall be armed and set ashore for thirty minutes," the man declared; he was obviously the pirate version of a lawkeeper. "Without interference from no other."

"So be it!" the drunken man who had been in Laurent's seat suddenly shouted, stepping out of his corner. "We'll do it by the Articles—without interference!"

"Not so fast, Benjamin!" Laurent said. "This would be no duel—it would be murder!" He walked over to Kat. "Have you ever fired a pistol before?"

She prickled at his comments. "_Madre de Dios_, Laurent, do you think I'd be stupid enough to demand it if I hadn't?" she demanded irritably.

He shook his head, still doubting her. "Katarina, your honor will be no good to you if you are dead. Shake hands with Anne, drink with us, and be friends." He looked at the other woman. "Anne, for my sake, forgive her!"

Anne still wore a scathing look. "Does she crawl and beg me to?"

"No."

"You're exceedin' your limits!" the man called Benjamin shouted. "You heard what Jonas Stohler said—without interference from no others!"

Laurent thought for a moment. "You're right," he said. "It will be as they wish." He stepped away from the table and called out to two of the spectators. "Your pistols, please." When he had both, he moved away from the crowd and fired both of them into the air. "I will load them—equally," he declared, then set them on a bench in front of the fireplace and went to work with his back turned.

Someone handed tankards to the two duelers; Anne knocked hers against Kat's and quaffed the whole thing in one gulp. Not to be outdone, Kat glared at the smugly smiling woman and tipped hers back. She had to fight not to gag and cough when she swallowed the drink it held—it was ale, and strong at that. "What chance will that snip have?" someone called out from the crowd.

"The same as Anne Bonnie," Laurent said, his back still to them. He turned around and came back over to the two, a pistol in each hand. "Your pigeon has claws, Anne."

"Only eagles have claws," she said sarcastically. "And she's no eagle."

Kat glared at her and folded her arms across her chest. Laurent looked at both of them. "Could you two do without this madness?"

"No," Anne said flatly.

"No," Kat seconded, her tone dripping with enmity.

"Very well then," he replied. "According to the rules, the injured party has first choice." He offered the pistols.

"That's me," Anne declared, taking one, and then stamped to one end of the table. Kat took her weapon and went the opposite way, and the two faced each other. All around them, men backed away to give them room.

"Does either party yield?" Laurent asked.

Both shot a look at him; then, Anne cocked her pistol and rested it against her chest. Kat followed suit with an easy motion. It was heavier than what she was used to, but gave her no trouble. She caught a flicker of surprise in the other woman's expression, and smiled inwardly. Bonnie hadn't been expecting her to know how to handle a gun. "Take aim!" Laurent called. Both raised their pistols. "I will ask once if you're ready and then give the word," he said, then backed out of the line of fire. Kat narrowed her eyes as she looked down the long barrel of the gun, preparing for the shot. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Ready, my friend," Anne said.

"Ready," Kat snapped.

"Fire!"

Both pistols went off with deafening explosions. At first, there was so much dust in the air that nothing could be seen—too much dust, in fact. Kat checked herself over, but she hadn't been hit; how could that be? She stopped, coughed, then plunked down into a chair miserably, realizing what had happened. _Curse that Laurent!_ she thought.

"You Dutch codfish!" Anne said. "Chimney soot in the pistols!" And indeed there had been, for Kat's entire face was blackened by soot. Anne burst out laughing, then walked over to Kat's end of the table. "I might have known you'd do a trick like this!"

Others standing around them began to laugh—and, Kat was annoyed to see, Laurent as well. She scowled at him, and he clapped her on the shoulder, handing over his handkerchief. Kat snatched it out of his hand and began to scrub at her face with it.

"That'll teach you not to pick anyone who can't see a joke!" Anne Bonnie told him, still laughing.

"I think you're right, Anne!" Laurent said, still grinning. He walked up to Bonnie and rubbed a hand against her face, then pulled it away. "But if I had chosen you—!" he added, showing her the soot on his fingers. She glared at him, then swung a fist toward his face; he ducked back, and she tried again, only to be picked up by a tall pirate from the Barracuda. The man carried her, shouting and kicking, to the opposite end of the room.

Everyone laughed hard and long at the spectacle—everyone except the drunk Benjamin. The laughter suddenly died down as Laurent stared at him. "The joke seems not to your taste, Benjamin."

"You and your Spanish strumpet," the man said, and spat on the floor.

Kat watched Laurent's expression harden. "And what else, Benjamin?"

The man drew his sword clumsily, giving Laurent plenty of time to follow suit. Everyone backed away from the two men. "Take her back where she came from!" the drunkard shouted.

"I am waiting, Benjamin. What's your grievance?"

"Your Contessa, Dutchman. She'll have the Spanish Main upon us. We'll have no more of her—or you!"

Laurent looked about the room. "Does this scum speak for the Brotherhood?" he asked contemptuously. "Are you my jury? Have I been tried?"

Jonas Stolher spoke up. "The Articles say that any man that's asked to hear—"

"You will hear me anyway," Laurent shouted. "What's my offense, truly? Let me tell you—it is that I hate the tyrant. With all my breath and spirit." He paused, glancing at Kat. "In Cartagena long ago, I took an oath, to pry his fingers loose as one man might—till he lost his grasp. So that others coming after me might find the New World that I had sought. Well?" he shouted. "The Spaniard begins to feel us now. His ships go armed, and still he looses them! We even have to find ways now to coax him out to fight!"

He pointed to Kat. "She—his bride-to-be—will bring Alvarado out. And if that's the crime which Captain Black sees fit to charge me with, I plead guilty." He glared about him. "Guilty in the highest degree!"

While he had been speaking, Kat had watched Captain Black edge closer and closer to Laurent. Suddenly, he lunged—and both Anne Bonnie and Kat shouted warnings at the same time.

"Laurent!"

"No!"

The Barracuda had no need of their warnings; he'd been on guard for an attack all through his speech. With a flashing sword he met Black's blade. They lunged and parried and sidestepped back and forth across the floor. The others moved out of their way quickly. Some shouted encouragements, but for the most part they were silent, warily watching the fight. Kat could see, however, that there was no competition involved. Laurent was playing with the older, drunker Black, allowing him to think he had the Barracuda cornered. He could disarm the man at any minute, and she knew it.

The battle ended when Laurent did just that with a clever flip of his sword. He backed Black against a table until he lay on it, and smacked away his hand when the other pirate went for his belt-dagger. Laurent rested the tip of his blade against Black's throat. "Your teeth are chattering, Benjamin," he taunted. "Are you afraid?" He paused. "You can have your life for what it's worth," he continued. "But get out of Tortuga before the morning. I warn you!"

He whipped away his blade and stared at the beaten man for a moment, then strode back over to Kat, who had given up trying to clean off her face. The Barracuda offered her his arm like any nobly born gentleman, then walked with her to the door. "Drink!" he called out, turning around briefly; his shout was met with cheers and the clatter of bottles.

When they were outside, Kat ventured a look at him. This was a man with many sides, one of which she had just seen. And now, she knew why he hadn't killed her or ransomed her off—or at least, she thought she did.


	4. Chapter 4: Cartegena

Disclaimer: Still don't own em. Except for the Paul Henreid clones. They're part of my closet 'o men, which is beginning to get a little crowded…hee.

It was unusually quiet back aboard the ship—Kat suspected it was because most of the sailors were out drinking and dancing. She was perched on the end of the bed in Laurent's cabin, scrubbing at her face with a handkerchief, and glaring at the handsome man the whole time. She was furious; not only for the trick he'd played on her—though it had done little more than injure her pride—but also for the way he'd referred to her as a bargaining piece. Her anger eclipsed her sense, or she might have admitted to herself that he had every right to do so, as she was his prisoner. But she fed the smoldering flames within her, taking comfort in their familiar heat. Without her temper she would be nothing more than a very confused high-born lady—perhaps with more sense and skill than most, but little more than a decoration. And _that_ was the very last thing she wanted to be, especially around him.

"Now, Katarina," he said consolingly, watching her struggle with the soot. "It was a good joke."

She snorted. "It was _supposed_ to be a duel."

"And so it was—in its own way."

Kat threw down the handkerchief. "Where I come from, Señor, no one interferes in a duel of honor," she said sharply.

Laurent blinked. "Where I come from, ladies do not usually ask to fire pistols at one another. How was I to know that you could shoot? That's not a normal lesson for a noblewoman—at least, not in my experience."

Kat sighed. "I _did_ tell you. I made one of the guards in the barracks teach me when I was twelve. I know how to throw a knife, as well. My family never knew it. There are quite a few things they didn't know about what I did." She managed a small smile. "Not all ladies are helpless dolls, you know."

He made a sweeping bow. "My apologies, Contessa."

She thought for a moment, then went to the water pitcher and rinsed the rest of the soot off her face. As she dried it, she said, "That woman…Anne Bonnie. You put the soot in the pistols to protect her, too."

When she looked around, she saw that his face was serious. "Anne Bonnie is my dearest friend. She was all I had when I first came here, and I would give my life for her."

Kat raised her eyebrows as she took a seat on the bunk. "And what about that nightgown? I assume that's what she was looking for."

Laurent smiled. "It is something of a tradition with us, you see."

Kat nodded, then rested her chin on a hand. "I want to ask you something," she said, suddenly more serious. "When you were speaking, you mentioned using me to bring out the Viceroy—Alvarado. Is that the reason that you keep me here, instead of ransoming me?"

The smile on his face disappeared. "It is true that I am using you to draw Alvarado out. Perhaps I keep you here for another reason as well…perhaps because you do not wish to return to your family, or the Viceroy."

She thought about it for a few moments. "Then you are a rare man, and I suppose I should be grateful to you for helping me," she finally said. "But it will take a long time. And my family…they may send people to search for me before that man does." Kat studied Laurent's face. "Can you not revenge yourself on him in some other way? And…_why_ do you wish revenge on him?"

Laurent's mouth tightened into a thin line. "Years ago, I was a peaceful voyager. I was the captain of a ship bound for the Carolinas, with provisions and grants to start a new colony. We were caught in a fierce storm, and our ship was blown off course. It landed in Cartagena. When I went before the Viceroy to plead our cause, he declared that my men were to be sold into slavery in the Spanish colonies. He destroyed my ship's papers in front of me—the very grants that gave us rights to settle." Even now, his face betrayed to Kat a rage that she'd never seen before in a man. "With luck, I escaped from his prison and started a new crew—only this time, it was dedicated to destroying him. That was my oath, and I have held to it ever since. You are one more way that I can strike at him; that is why you are here."

Kat pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them; it was her way of sitting when she had something very serious to consider. There was silence in the cabin for a while, broken only by the creaking of timbers and the rigging outside. Finally, Kat spoke. "I could help you," she said.

Laurent's eyebrows went up. "You speak of betrayal of the very people that you once belonged to. What reason would you ever have for fighting against the Viceroy?"

Kat stood, her anger beginning to rise once more. "Have I not told you that I hate the nobility? I don't want to marry Alvarado. And if something isn't done about him, he will send ships and soldiers to find me. That is what my family would want, and he will do it, if his pride is as great as you tell me."

Laurent left his seat and walked up to her, resting his hands on her shoulders. "I believe I do understand. So. How would you help me?"

She looked up into his face. "If I am delivered to him, perhaps for a ransom fee, I could be your…your contact in the palace. I don't know who would bring me, but once I was there, I would find a way to get you to the Viceroy—and then you could do what you wanted. If he's truly as cruel as you've told me, I have no doubt that he deserves whatever retribution you have in store."

"How do I know I can trust you?" Laurent asked softly, searching her face with his beautiful eyes. There was something in them, something she couldn't put a name to…

She met his gaze levelly. "I can only give you my word that I will do what I say, Señor, for whatever worth my word has to you." Her eyes flicked downward, and she went on. "I am a disgrace to my family, because I hid on the ship and ran away, and they will never take me back. No matter what I do now, I cannot return—and if that is so, I want to do something worthwhile with my freedom. I did not pay so high a price for nothing."

He put a hand under her chin and lifted it until she looked into his eyes. "There is no disgrace in wanting a life of your own," he said softly. "And you have paid a great price for it. I admire you, my dear. I admire your fortitude, and how you stood your ground at the Sea Turtle tonight. And I believe that you will keep your word."

Against her will, Kat's eyes began to fill with tears of gratitude. "Thank you, Laurent," she whispered.

He smiled at her, and was about to say something—but suddenly, there was a commotion on deck. The door to the cabin burst open, and several rough men burst in and seized Laurent; he kicked and tried to reach around to punch them, but they had a good hold on his arms. They thrust a gag into his mouth and were tying his hands when another person appeared at the door.

It was none other than Anne Bonnie.

"Careful, you scum!" she yelled at the men holding Laurent. She was brandishing a pistol, and pointed it at Kat's stomach before she could move to do anything. Kat, through her shock, noticed with satisfaction that the woman wore a black eye from their meeting in the tavern. "And you, Dutchman!" Bonnie said to Laurent. "Say goodbye to your wench. She's off to Cartagena on the turn of the tide." Kat eyes widened at this proclamation, and she moved as if to attack Bonnie, but the pistol stopped her. She could do nothing but watch as the two men carried Laurent bodily out onto the deck. Anne Bonnie followed them, herding Kat ahead of her.

"I was beginning to think the Spanish witch had a spell on you," she said to Laurent. "But no more of that! I'm taking charge of your ship—and you're staying here in Tortuga, whether you want to or not! Take him ashore!" she ordered her men.

The pirates dragged Laurent across the deck and handed him over the rail into a waiting boat. "We'll fire a cannon when we've cleared the harbor!" Anne Bonnie yelled to them; only then did Kat notice that the _Barracuda_ was filled with unfamiliar faces, all quickly readying the ship to sail. "Then cut him loose and run for it!"

"Shove off!" the pirates in the boat called. Then another shout came from the deck. "Anchor's up and all clear!"

Kat pushed the pirate woman aside and ran to the rail, and would have leapt over the side had one of Bonnie's men not restrained her. Bonnie, who'd recovered her balance easily, stood to one side, smiling smugly. At that moment, Kat could have killed the woman with her bare hands, for humiliating her at the tavern, for taking Laurent. But there was no chance for that revenge, not with the Barracuda in the hands of pirates loyal to Bonnie. Kat could only watch as the boat carrying Laurent took him, and her one chance of avoiding marriage to the Viceroy, back to Tortuga.

Kat paced the room with agitated steps. Twenty in one direction, thirty in another—she'd done it a hundred times since her arrival. Only this morning, the pirates had sent her to the Viceroy's palace with a guard, and the order had immediately come for her to be sent to these extravagant quarters and dressed in lavish lady's clothing. She didn't know what had happened to the pirates and Anne Bonnie, although she guessed that they were still waiting in the harbor for their ransom reward.

The palace at Cartegena was no different than the one she'd left in Mexico; expensively decorated, strewn with art and baubles and all things of the very best quality, as befitted the nobility of Spain, it was the embodiment of everything she despised and had tried to escape. After the maids finished dressing her, the door had been locked behind them, and a guard posted in the hallway. Kat had been told that she was to be taken to an audience with the Viceroy—her future husband.

But she would not marry him if she could find a way to help it.

There was a knock at the door, and one of the Viceroy's men stepped in. "His Excellency wishes to see you now, Señorita," he said. Kat sighed and composed herself, preparing to deal with another member of the nobility—and immediately tripped on the heavily embroidered hem of her dress. Weeks of wearing men's clothing had left her unaccustomed to moving in skirts, and she knew she'd pay for it. Resisting the urge to curse, she followed the man out of the room, down an abominably high staircase, and through several long passages.

When they reached an ornately carved door, the man opened it and bowed her into a room that Kat knew was only used to receive guests; it was the most lavishly furnished, and was meant to awe the visitor. At the end of a table, a man—the Viceroy, she assumed—sat. He rose when she stepped in, and she couldn't help thinking, _Him? This is the man my family wanted me to marry?_

The Viceroy was dressed in rich green brocade, with lace at the cuffs of his shirt and fine leather boots on his feet, but none of it was able to disguise the fact that he was fat—rotund, even. His hair and beard were carefully manicured and streaked with gray, his face was rosy-cheeked and wore a congenial smile, but his eyes spoke volumes. They were greedy, deceiving eyes; this was a man who cared nothing for others, who would have his every whim obeyed, no matter who it hurt; a man whose entire lifestyle was focused around himself.

"Welcome to Cartegena," he said, standing. Kat stayed where she was and let him approach her. "We have been informed of your kidnapping, and of your brave trials and tribulations. Why didn't you tell me she was beautiful?" he asked the herald before Kat could say anything.

"I did tell you, your Excellency," the man replied from behind her.

"Well, why didn't you tell me she was more beautiful than you did?" The Viceroy took her hand in a courtly gesture, and Kat resisted the urge to pull it out of his grip. "I have also been informed, my child, of some disagreement between yourself and your family about this marriage. Well, as you are now here, I assume that there are no more problems—and whatever I hold to be automatically becomes so."

"There were no difficulties," Kat said, her voice flat. "I ran away."

Alvarado ignored her. "My dear child, I see no reason why we should not be married tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she repeated, startled.

"Well, yesterday unfortunately is impossible. Today—today I will be devoting all of my attention to the task of making myself even more personable for you. But tomorrow, I have the entire day free. We shall be married tomorrow."

"You needn't bother preparing yourself," Kat said venomously. "I have no intention of marrying you."

"You are in error," Alvarado said in a harder voice, his eyes narrowing. "We will not discuss this."

"I insist that you return me to my family," she retorted.

"It is always a mistake to insist upon a decision one is powerless to enforce. After all, it was your family's wish that you and I be married," he reminded her. "I will continue to assume that it is your true wish as well." He turned to the herald. "And what has been done with the pirates that brought the Contessa Katarina?"

"They are still aboard the ship, Excellency," the man told him.

"I desire to see them. I will honor them with my personal attention at once," he declared, making his way to the door. "Pray excuse me, my child," he said to Kat.

She prickled at the man's patronizing tone, but spoke up anyway; this might be her only chance to ensure that someone could help her escape. "Your Excellency," she said loudly, in her most haughty tone. "I will accompany you."

"You are already acquiring a taste for my company," Alvarado said with a smile. "Good. By all means, come along."

_Nothing of the sort, you pig,_ Kat thought as she laid her hand on his arm. If she was lucky, she might still find an ally among the pirates.

They rowed out to the Barracuda in a large craft manned by armored guards and soldiers. The Viceroy made his way up the gangplank, offering Kat his hand to assist her; she ignored it. "So this is the Barracuda," he said, strutting about the deck. "I fancy her as well as any of our own armada—perhaps better."

"Agreed, Your Excellency," the captain of the guard said. "With some alterations, it would make a good ship of war."

"The elimination of Señor Barracuda alone is enough to convert her into what I really need—a vessel for my private pleasure," Alvarado declared. Kat tried not to make a noise of disgust at such a suggestion, but it was difficult. He noticed, but read her expression wrong. "Don't be surprised, my dear, if some fine evening she puts out to sea carrying you on your honeymoon in the arms of your beloved." He moved a little closer to her. "If my reference to your beloved is vague, I was referring to myself."

This time, Kat did snort in disgust, but the Viceroy had turned away to observe a new commotion on deck as the guards dragged someone up from the hold. To Kat's surprise, it was Anne Bonnie, kicking, punching and scratching. She managed to deck several guards and knock one clear over the railing before they were able to restrain her.

"Bless me, it's a woman!" the Viceroy said, amused.

"So I am, hogshead," Bonnie snapped, a dangerous grin on her face, and spat at his feet. "So what are you?"

Alvarado smiled. "I am the one who must decide whether you hang—or burn at the stake. It's a difficult choice."

"Your Excellency," Kat said, thinking fast. "I promised them safe conduct back to Tortuga." She saw the surprise in Anne's expression, but ignored it and kept her own face carefully blank.

"You did?" said the Viceroy. "Oh, well, I probably would have done the same thing—and I wouldn't have kept my word. I see no earthly reason why I should keep yours."

Kat temper heated at the man's nonchalant attitude toward people's lives. "When I gave these people my word, I meant it to be kept," she retorted.

"There is no such thing," the Viceroy declared, with the air of one reciting a proverb, "as a word of honor that must be kept—so far as this rubbish is concerned."

"As a Contessa, my word must be kept," Kat insisted.

The Viceroy studied her for a moment. "You shall have your way," he said. "These people will be kept under guard—as light a guard as necessary—until a way is found to their fellow pirates."

"I have your word for it?" Kat asked dubiously.

"You have. Commandanté," he ordered one of his men, "escort the Contessa to the gangway." She followed the armored man down the wooden platform, but before she reached the end, she heard, "You will now take this riffraff, shackled if necessary, to the prison. You will keep them there until I decide whether they are to be burned at the stake separately or together."

Kat whirled, enraged, but the boat with the Viceroy's guards had already pushed away from the Barracuda. She could hear the sounds of Anne Bonnie's struggles and the roars of the other pirates as the soldiers rounded them up, and clenched her fists. Had she not been wearing the infernal mass of skirts that she was, she would have leapt from the boat and joined the pirates' struggle, if only to have the opportunity to kill Alvarado. If the Viceroy came within her reach again, she would tear him to pieces. But first—first she had to find a way to get away from the palace.


	5. Chapter 5: Trickery

Disclaimer: I seriously don't think that RKO Radio is going to hunt me down because I borrowed characters from a movie that very few people beside me have ever heard of, but just in case…

That night, she was sitting in her room, tearing the bedsheets into strips and braiding them into rope when she heard a tapping at her window. It sounded as if someone was throwing gravel at it. She pushed the remnants of the sheets under the bed and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, then opened the doors that led onto the balcony of her room. Kat had to duck a rock as she went out; someone was trying to get her attention, that much was sure. When she went to the railing and strained her eyes to see into the darkness, she saw nothing. Suddenly, there was a soft thud behind her, and she whirled around.

The Barracuda was standing in the narrow beam of light escaping the doors of her room. "Laurent!" she said, startled. "What are you—I thought they'd taken you to Tortuga!"

He smiled, but his eyes held no humor. "I'm sorry if I've startled you, but there was too much danger and too little time to have myself announced with more formality."

"Wait," she said. "Let me close the door. There's a guard in the hall." She dashed back into the bedroom, hid the rest of her rope under the bed, and pulled the double doors closed as she went back out on the balcony.

Laurent had noticed her efforts. "You've been busy," he commented.

"Yes, I was going to try and climb down. Laurent, the Viceroy's put the two crews—yours and Anne Bonnie's—in the prison. I heard him talking, and he's going to execute them soon."

"I know," he replied. There was a strange look on his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"You would like to continue with this charade, wouldn't you?" he said. "_You_'ve had my crew thrown into the prison. And Anne Bonnie, to whom you promised safe conduct home—she's under lock and key, waiting with the rest of them to be burned at the stake, in celebration of the royal holiday. I am sure the flames will add a bit of color to the festivities!"

Kat's eyes widened, and she took a step back from him with her fists clenched. "Who told you that? _Who?_" she demanded furiously. "How dare you think that I'd condemn anyone to that fate?" She could feel the blood rising in her cheeks, flushing them with heat. "I tried to help them. I knew the Viceroy wouldn't listen to me, but I tried to buy time. If I can get out of here, I will release them—and then exact payment from that swine. If you want to believe otherwise, so be it," she shot at him. "But you'd best hurry if you want to kill him before I do!"

Laurent was about to say something; before he could, however, voices came from her room. "Get out of here," Kat hissed at him. "Before they catch you, too. Go!"

"Did you not think I would have planned for such an event, my dear?" he replied, turning to face the door.

The soldiers burst through it as he did, and surrounded the two of them. Alvarado followed, and stared at Laurent. His eyes widened. "So you are the Barracuda?" he said, then laughed loudly.

"Or Laurent Van Horn, remember?"

"Yes, I remember. You were presumptuous, and I punished you. Oh, we're old friends," Alvarado said to Kat. "But it's an intimacy that won't endure much longer, I'm afraid. I will rid you of this intruder—immediately and permanently."

"Laurent," Kat started to say, but the Barracuda stopped her, smiling.

"I consider it a delightful privilege to have known you, Contessa," he said to Kat with a bow, "and I will remember you till the end of my days." Then, with one quick motion, he hooked his boot around the boots of the guards standing behind him, twisted, and knocked them off their feet. In a bound he was over the railing and into the shrubbery. Both Alvarado and Kat dashed up to the railing and leaned over it.

"Search the gardens!" the Viceroy called out to his men. "You—look in the shrubbery to the right!"

The guards searched for him for a few seconds but then—to Kat's great shock and surprise—Laurent stepped out and allowed the guards to catch him.

"Be sure there are no more of them!" the Viceroy ordered, then turned to Kat. "A thousand pardons for this intrusion, my child. But I thought it necessary—for your sake even more than my own."

Alvarado strode out of the room, and Kat looked back down at the gardens; the guards were still searching. There was a sudden commotion from one patch of bushes, and several soldiers appeared, dragging with them three pirates—in fact, the very same men who'd pulled her out from under the fallen rigging. Kat realized then what Laurent had been trying to do: get into the prison, then have his friends deliver weapons so that he could rescue Anne Bonnie and his crew. But she had just seen the plan backfire—and she knew that the only way it would work was if she released them instead. With an angry kick at the dragging hem of her skirt, Kat ran back into her room, sending lace and ribbons flying as she prepared for the task.

Within a few hours, she had found her way to the prison in the guise of a serving-maid, saying that she had been sent with food for the prisoners. She'd also brought as much wine as she could carry—for the purpose of making the single guard on duty there as drunk as possible. Unfortunately, he'd also decided that he liked her, and now had a hand around her waist. "Here," she said in her best flirting voice. "Let me open you another bottle."

The man took it, drank nearly half in one gulp, then laughed drunkenly and tried to pull her into a kiss. "Not now," she said, pulling back. "Ah…what if someone saw us? Take them the basket," she suggested, motioning towards the jail cells. "Then hurry back here and…I'll be waiting for you."

The man staggered to his feet, carrying the basket of roasted meat that she'd brought, and began handing it through the bars of the cells. "Here's your last meal," he said. "Don't choke on the bones!"

As the man lurched about to each group of prisoners, Kat edged around the corner of the wall that hid the others from view. As she had hoped, Laurent was there, standing by the bars of his cell. He saw her and grinned, surprised, but she put a finger to her lips and shook her head.

Without warning, a trumpet blared, and Kat recognized it as heralding the arrival of the Viceroy. "It's the Viceroy!" she said, running up to the guard. "I should have left here long ago! If he finds you here in your condition with me, his—his favorite!"

"I know!" the man said. "It would be my last meal too!" He pulled her over to one of the cells, unlocked it, and motioned for her to go inside. When he locked the door, Kat turned and found Anne Bonnie standing next to her.

"Strike me if I ever thought I'd see you again!" the woman declared.

"Shh!" Kat warned her, then stepped into the shadows.

"The Contessa—she's here!" one of the pirates exclaimed.

"She knows the way to a man's heart," another voice said, and Kat smiled. Before she'd left the kitchen, she'd hidden knives in each roasted bird.

The Viceroy came strutting down the stairs just then, followed by his ministers and heralds. "On second thought, I'd rather wear the white brocade," Kat heard him say. "It flatters my figure. And don't forget to tell my barber that my beard wants trimming."

"You'd let any man come that close to your throat with a blade?" Laurent asked. Kat peeked around the corner of the cell, and saw the whole party standing near Laurent. The Viceroy carried a ridiculous pet monkey, outfitted in full military regalia.

"Corporal, tell the man that I do," Alvarado said to the monkey. "He shouldn't have thought he could steal a woman betrothed to me the way he stole ships, goods and riches, eh?"

"For the first time we see eye to eye!" Laurent declared. "A woman cannot be stolen—nor her hand in marriage."

"Hang him high," the Viceroy said with a smug expression. "High enough to have a last glimpse of the Barracuda. The crowning touch, then."

"Yes, Your Excellency," one of his servants said.

"And make a note that the wedding party will be brought in the same barge as the priests. And let him and his party reach their destination first." He reached up and patted his monkey. "Well, Corporal—since we shan't see him again—our condolences." He began to walk away from Laurent on his way out—and straight past Anne Bonnie's cell.

"He mustn't see me!" Kat whispered urgently. The older woman stepped in front of her as the Viceroy passed.

"I didn't think your kind even cared about us," Bonnie said when the Viceroy was gone.

Kat shrugged. "Laurent helped me—and I couldn't let that pig kill you. I came to keep my word that all of you would go free."

The guard had come back, and was unlocking the cell door. "You will come now, please," he said to her.

Kat stepped out, and pulled a pistol from under her cloak, aiming it at the man. "Strike me," she heard Bonnie remark from behind her.

"Walk ahead of me," Kat told the spluttering man as she pulled the keys from his hands. When she gave them to Bonnie, the other woman set to work releasing the rest of the pirates. As soon as he was out, Laurent came over to her; Kat let the other men take care of the guard.

"Do you believe me now?" Kat asked Laurent.

He smiled and embraced her quickly. "Yes. I'll never forget what you've done for me, Kat."

She grinned. "You finally said it properly," she said, then pulled out a long bundle that had been tied under her skirt. "Here—take this before I fall over."The Barracuda's own smile became even broader as he unwrapped the bundle. "Kat, how did you manage this?" he asked, holding up the swords that she'd brought.

"With great difficulty," she replied. "I was sitting on those for half an hour, trying to get the guard drunk, so I hope you'll put them to good use."

"I will indeed," Laurent said, thrusting a sword into his belt. "Here's weapons for some, men—the rest of you dogs, go find the armory!" he ordered in a low voice. "And be quiet about it!" Kat caught a glimpse of Anne Bonnie herding the guard up the stairway at knifepoint before turning back to Laurent.

"Now what do we do?" she asked.

He glanced up the stairs. "Take back the ship. We should—" Laurent stopped abruptly as voices came toward them. "Quickly!" he hissed, grabbing Kat and pulling her with him into the concealing darkness of an open doorway. The voices came closer; two men were walking down the stairs and arguing.

"I'm sure you're wrong—"

"They reported to me that the palace sent a maidservant," one with a more authoritative tone declared. Kat grimaced. She'd hoped that she had snuck away without anyone knowing about it, but someone had obviously found out. She also recognized the speaker: it was one of Alvarado's commanders, a hard-faced man with who sneered often and watched her with an appraising eye whenever she came near.

"But the palace sent no maidservant!" the other man protested.

"There was some girl here. It'd be well for me to find out about her and for you to see that she doesn't slip past the gate."

"I'll see to it."

One set of footsteps receded, but the commander's came closer. He obviously intended to search the prison until he found her. Kat looked at Laurent questioningly, but he only put a finger to his lips and leaned closer to her ear. "Go and get his attention," he whispered. "I'll be right behind you."

Kat nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the doorway as if she had meant to be there all along. "You were looking for me, Commandanté?" she asked with her blandest nobility smile.

The man whirled around, then pasted a nasty leer on his face. "What are you doing in such a place, my Contessa?" he sneered.

Kat stepped aside as she felt Laurent at her back. "Helping some friends, Commandanté. I trust you will have no objections?"

The man drew his sword and threw it aside as Laurent brandished his own. "On the contrary—this is treason, Contessa. And His Excellency will hear of it—as soon as I have dealt with this scum!"

He lunged into an attack; Kat backed quickly away as Laurent met it with a flash of his own blade. The two parried and skipped across the stone floor, and she could see that the Barracuda had his work cut out for him. The man was nearly his match in skill and agility. She edged away nervously, wanting to do something and knowing she would only get in the way. There was nothing for her to do but watch as the men fought.

Suddenly, there was motion at the top of the stairs. A guard had just opened the heavy door and seen the fight; he drew his sword and began to sneak down the stairs. Kat ducked around a corner, then stuck out a foot as the man rushed by her. He toppled with a loud clang of armor, and she quickly placed a foot on his back and divested him of his sword. When he tried to get up, she flicked the blade so that it rested at his throat and hissed, "One move and you'll be wanting for a head. Be still!" He immediately ceased to struggle.

She stood and watched the fight for a few moments; Laurent was doing well, and his opponent was bleeding from several wounds. Kat tried to take in as much of the swordplay as she could, but she didn't realize that her sword was drifting further and further away from the guard's throat. By the time she noticed, it was too late.

With a heave, the guard pushed her foot off his back and shoved her away; she lost her balance and staggered backwards. Before she could stop him, the man was running up the stairs and toward the door of the prison. Laurent and the commander were still occupied with their fight, and she didn't dare distract him, lest he make a fatal error. Without another thought, Kat reached under her skirt, pulled a knife from her boot, then aimed it and threw. Everything seemed to move slower as she watched the blade whistle through the air and bury itself in the guard's back.

The man made no sound, only clutched at the door handle as he fell. A moment later, there was another loud thump. Kat spun around, and saw the commander on the floor with Laurent standing over him.

Neither of them spoke. Then, Kat turned and ran up the stairs to where the guard had fallen. She stopped, reached down, and pulled her knife from the man's back. There she stood, silently, clutching the bloody blade tightly in her hands. She only noticed that Laurent had followed her when he pried her fingers off of the handle. Kat looked up at him. "I killed him," she said softly. Her voice was flat, controlled, and had her hands not been shaking she might have convinced an onlooker that what she'd just done meant nothing to her.

"Yes," Laurent said. He put a hand on her shoulder, then held her when she buried her face against his chest. She couldn't stop from shaking. By the time she pulled away, Laurent's shirt was tearstained, as was her face.

"The others," she said, dashing away the salty drops. "We have to help Anne Bonnie and your crew. We've got to find a way to get onto the Barracuda without being caught."

Laurent studied her for a moment. "I think I know a way. Go to your rooms and change into your bridal gown, then meet me on your balcony. I have a plan, but I must find some of my men first."

Kat nodded. "All right," she said, doing her best not to look at the dead guard. "Be careful, Laurent."

He smiled. "Always, dear Katarina."

A short time later, Kat sat in the barge that was meant to bring her to the Barracuda for the wedding ceremony. It was, however, minus the escort of guards that had been watching it. Now, Laurent and the three pirates from the Barracuda sat at the oars, dressed in priests' robes. The task of appropriating the disguises must have been simple compared to that of sneaking her off the balcony in full wedding dress; it had taken most of their time just to accomplish that, not to mention how long it had taken her to put on the blasted thing. She watched nervously as they approached the ship, twisting the lace of her dress in her hands.

"The good Fathers will be completely unaware that their robes are missing until they wake," Laurent assured her. "And believe me, Pillory used no violence." Kat looked behind her at the short, older man in the group, who winked at her. The other two were quiet. One was Paree, a Frenchman, small and dark, with cunning black eyes and a swift sword; the other was Swaine, a silent giant of a man, as gentle when helping her down from the balcony as if he'd been handling a piece of fine ceramic. She'd found out earlier that he couldn't speak because the Viceroy had had his tongue cut out, and it only served to strengthen her hatred for Alvarado.

"It's not that," she said. "I'm afraid that the Lord Bishop himself may be expected, and Alvarado will be suspicious if he isn't with me."

Laurent looked thoughtful. "If so, His Lordship's absence may have to be excused."

Before Kat could say anything more, they had reached the Barracuda and the Viceroy was giving orders to his men. "Officers! Form a guard of honor to receive the Contessa. And put down the carpet!"

With some difficulty, Kat managed to climb from the boat to the gangway. Laurent and his friends followed her, the cowls of their robes obscuring their faces. When she reached the top, Kat found the Viceroy waiting for her. "My dear," he said with a bow.

She curtsied, maintaining her polite mask. "Father Lorenzo has come in place of His Lordship. The bishop is confined with another attack of gout."

"I pity him," the Viceroy said. "But I rejoice that he caused me no delay."

He took her arm and began to lead her about the deck. Kat heard a faint splashing, and then she saw, out of the corner of her eye, one of the guards being pulled swiftly and silently over the rail. Another followed, and she turned her attention back to the Viceroy. The plan was working perfectly.

"I fancied we'd be married right here," Alvarado said loudly, motioning to two chairs that had been set up on the deck. "I take it for granted that you agree." Kat smiled, trying to hide her revulsion at the very idea of them being married. The Viceroy was so pompous and overbearing that it was almost funny, but she was sick at the thought that, if it hadn't been for Laurent, she might have actually been forced to go through with the ceremony.

The man went on. "I must make mention of an unforeseen occurrence in the festivities I had planned to celebrate our wedding. The Barracuda has managed to escape again, and I am sorry to say that he will not be present for the ceremony. I can assure you, however, that he will be hung immediately when he is caught. Does that please you, my child?"

Kat looked past the Viceroy, and saw that the decks were deserted. Laurent, under his concealing robes, winked at her, and she spoke. "Nothing would please me less," she said plainly, not bothering to be polite anymore. "But you will not have to look far to find the Barracuda." She indicated the cowled figure standing behind Alvarado with a graceful twist of her hand.

The Viceroy spun as Laurent threw back his hood. "That was a foolish thing to say, my dear," Alvarado told Kat. "And even more foolish for you to come here," he said to Laurent. "For this ship is amply fortified—which I'm sure you didn't anticipate." He turned back to Kat. "I indulge myself in the thought that you were unwillingly persuaded into this imprudent behavior."

"You indulge too much," Kat said with her best haughty air, matching the Viceroy's own. "I made my own choices."

"You chose the looser; but I permit you to change your mind," Alvarado said, narrowing his eyes.

"I don't need your permission, _Your Excellency_," Kat retorted. "I have no intention of changing my mind—and you will not change it for me."

"Do not try my affection too far," the Viceroy began, but Kat cut him off.

"I care nothing for your affection. I'm not one of your kind anymore. And no matter what you do, I will never again be anything like you."

The Viceroy's face grew hard and angry; he began to shout. "Lieutenant!"

"Call your guards," Kat said contemptuously. "They can't make me despise you any less—you who stand for everything I wish to forget!"

The Viceroy scrambled down the stairs to the main deck, still shouting for his officers. He reached the ship's bell and began ringing it, but stopped when Laurent's three friends advanced on him. The men were silent but menacing, and Alvarado finally seemed to realize that he was in grave danger. He was breathing fast, the great bulk of his chest heaving with each gasp for air. "You'll never get past the fortress," he said angrily. "They are under orders to stop this ship should it set sail before the appointed time."

Laurent grinned. "But I see nothing wrong in the Viceroy and his wife being eager to complete their marriage vows earlier than planned. You will take that chair, your Excellency," he said, pointing to one of the throne-like seats that occupied the deck, "and behave as if you were doing so. If you refuse, remember that each and every man on this ship has ample reason to do you harm."

Glaring ferociously, the Viceroy started up the stairs again, then made as if to arrange himself in one of the chairs. Kat, still standing in front of her own seat, heard the metallic scrape of a blade. Then, before she could move away, the Viceroy was behind her, holding her shoulder in one meaty hand and pressing a dagger into her throat with the other. "Since you are so concerned with the Contessa's interests, I am sure you will recognize the immediate threat to her well-being," Alvarado said, puffing a little. "You will return us to land, where I will see to it that you all hang."

Kat froze. The Viceroy was slow and fat, but she knew he would slit her throat before Laurent could take a step. He outweighed her, which was both a disadvantage and an asset, if she could use it. Trying to distract Alvarado and keep Laurent from doing anything, she hissed, "You lying, dishonorable swine. You'd threaten a woman to save your own skin?"

"There are times, Contessa, when I find my own welfare takes precedence over the dictates of chivalry." He pressed the knife harder, drawing a thin line of blood from her skin and making her gasp. "Well, Señor Barracuda?"

Laurent looked ready to draw his sword, but Kat stayed him, silently mouthing "no". The Viceroy wasn't paying attention to her hands, and so didn't notice that she had hold of one of the heavy pegs that were used to secure loose ropes. Her fingers worked it quietly from its slot; then, she stamped one booted foot heavily on Alvarado's instep and twisted out of his grasp when he cursed and staggered. Ignoring the brief pulse of heat on her throat, she turned and slammed the wooden peg into his chest. The Viceroy doubled over, wheezing. Kat backed away until she hit a reassuring solidness—Laurent, who steadied her with one hand while using the other to level his sword at the Viceroy's throat.

"It was to be hanging, was it?" Laurent asked coldly. "Well, then, Your Excellency, I can think of no more fitting revenge than to do to you what you were planning to do to me and my crew. Unless, of course, the Contessa has any objections to such a course."

Kat's hands tightened on the peg. "Let him hang," she said icily. "He was willing enough to condemn me to death, if you hadn't done what he wanted. If he lives, he'll only ruin more lives—like he would have mine."

The Viceroy's face turned dark red as he cursed them all roundly. Suddenly, he lunged for the ship's bell that hung nearby. His hands were just on the rope when he stiffened and clutched at his side. A knife had sprouted there, thrown by some anonymous pirate. Alvarado fell slowly, until his bulk was finally sprawled on the planks of the deck.

Kat pulled away from the Barracuda and dropped to her knees next to the Viceroy. She didn't have to look hard to tell that he was dead; his mouth drooped slackly, and there was no wheeze of breath from his lips. She turned to look at Laurent. "He's dead," she said.

Laurent lifted her to her feet. "Then you are free," he said, then pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and pressed it to her throat. "And you're bleeding."

For the first time Kat felt the sting of the cut the knife had left, and a warm stickiness from the blood. She began to giggle, giddy with shock. "Yes, free—I'm free to hang with you, if we're caught. We've killed the Viceroy of New Granada, Laurent. Do you think we can just sail away without those long nines at the fort blasting us to pieces? They're going to be watching, and if we sail without the Viceroy, they're sure to fire on us."

Laurent squeezed her shoulders reassuringly. "Don't worry, Contessa. We have his Excellency, and you, and that is all we'll need. Come—sit in your chair, and leave the rest to me." She obeyed, tying the handkerchief around her neck to stop the bleeding, and watched with trepidation as Pillory and Swaine wrestled Alvarado's body into the seat next to her. They bound him into a sitting position with thin cord, hard enough for her to see, that an observer looking through a spyglass would never be able to detect. Laurent raised the cowl of his robe and stood in front of her. "We are going to set sail. You must behave as if I am conducting the wedding ceremony—with luck, it will be a good enough ruse to get us past that fortress."

_"Por favor, Dios,"_ she murmured fervently. Beyond the guns of the fortress lay the open sea, and freedom, though she didn't know as yet what it held for her. "Sail, then," she said to Laurent. "We've nothing to lose but our lives."

The Barracuda began issuing quiet orders. In moments, the ship was slipping smoothly out of the harbor. The pirates were unusually quiet as well, though Kat was glad that Anne Bonnie had deigned to remain on New Granada, and secure her own ship before returning to the open sea. She still didn't trust Bonnie, and there was really no telling what the woman would do. Kat twisted her skirt nervously in her hands as they neared the fortress. She could see lights moving on the walls, and knew they had been sighted; it now only remained to convince the watchers that nothing was awry. She looked straight at Laurent, and saw him grin beneath the thick cowl of his robe. "Courage, Contessa," he said, then bent his head as if in prayer. She followed suit, waiting.

A minute crawled by, and another. Then, as suddenly as a bolt of lightning, there was a loud boom from the fortress, and a smaller explosion overhead. Kat's heart skipped a beat as her head snapped up. One of the cannon had fired…but not, it seemed, at the _Barracuda_. The boom was repeated, and she saw a flare spiraling out from the top of the fortress wall. It flew over the ship and exploded into a burst of tiny stars that hissed and popped as they fell. _A celebration,_ she thought through a wave of relief. _Honor shots, for the wedding._ Her hands and knees were shaking, and she knew that if she had not been sitting she would have stumbled. The _Barracuda_ moved swiftly on, gaining speed as a night breeze filled her sails. Before long they were clear of the harbor, and the lights of New Granada had become mere pinpricks, glowing across the dark waters.

As soon as she knew it was safe, Kat left her chair and went to lean against the rail. She closed her eyes, letting the cool sea breezes flow over her skin and mist it with salt spray. Finally—_finally_—she was free. Free of the Viceroy, free of the marriage she had been dreading, free of the people who would have dragged her back to her family and condemned her to a life of misery if she hadn't married. It was a feeling as heady as the pitch of the ship beneath her feet and the wind against her face.

She turned when she heard boots on the deck at her back. Laurent stood behind her, clad in only boots, breeches and shirt now that he had discarded his priest's robe. "Well, Contessa?" he asked with a smile. "What will you do with your newfound freedom?" He had seen the relief in her face, and the way she'd stopped to drink in the wind.

Kat shook her head. "I don't know," she replied. She took a step away from the rail, only to stagger as a swell of dizziness overcame her. Her vision went gray, and she would have fallen if Laurent had not caught her. Dimly she realized that her neck had still been bleeding despite the bandage. Laurent half-carried her away from the rail, and when her eyes cleared once more they were at the door to his cabin. He opened it with a kick, and then gathered her—dress and all—into his arms and brought her to the bunk. "I should have realized that would give you trouble," he said. "Neck wounds bleed more than they have a right to, and it's no wonder you're lightheaded."

"It isn't the only reason," Kat said with a hint of amusement. "Endure a corset for a few hours, and see how lightheaded _that_ makes you." Heedless of propriety, she reached behind her back and began ripping the lacing out of her dress. When she had loosened the corset as well, she took a deep breath and sighed. "There."

Laurent chuckled and retrieved a long strip of linen from a drawer, then started to wrap it around her neck. She winced at the pressure on the cut. "You'll have another handsome scar there," the Barracuda said jokingly, "to match the one on your cheek."

Absently she rubbed the thin scab below her eye. "I'm beginning to look like a pirate myself," she said. "Will you leave so I can get out of this gown?"

The Barracuda favored her with a bow. "Of course, Contessa. You will find suitable clothing in that drawer there"—he pointed—"and I will return when you call." He left the cabin, and Kat proceeded to struggle out of her dress, tearing costly fabric and lace and not caring a whit. In a few moments she was free of the masses of fabric, and had pulled a pair of breeches and a shirt from among Laurent's things. Putting them on felt as natural as breathing, something that she ought to have found strange. But she was no longer the same person.

"I'm finished," she called, resuming her seat on the bunk. The Barracuda returned, carrying a tankard and a lit candle in a holder. He set the candle down next to the bunk, handed her the tankard, and looked down at the remains of her gown, lying on the floor. "What did you plan to do with this?" he asked.

Kat took one look at the cloth and turned away, clutching the tankard. "I don't care. Throw it overboard, use it for rags—I don't ever want to see it again." She had almost worn the garment to a marriage ceremony, one that would have ended her happiness and freedom and thrown her into a living nightmare.

Laurent nodded. "As you wish, Contessa." He bundled the gown into a ball and threw it out a window into the sea. "It's gone," he said, taking a seat next to the bunk. "And I meant for you to drink that."

She glanced at the tankard she still held, then lifted it to her lips and drained it. Coughing, she set the pewter vessel down next to the candle; the liquid inside had been rum, and strong at that. When she looked up, the Barracuda's eyes were crinkling with amusement. "Better?" he asked.

"Yes," Kat replied, and would have said more if she hadn't been interrupted by a huge yawn. "Ah," Laurent said. "I should have known you'd be tired." He took a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around her. "Get some rest, and we'll talk in the morning."

"You'll let me stay aboard?" Kat asked, blinking sleepily as she lay back on the bunk. "After what happened to you and your men, I didn't think you'd ever want me on the ship again."

Laurent smiled. "We'll discuss it on the morrow. Good night, Katarina." He stood, went around the cabin extinguishing the lamps that glowed on the walls, and then left, quietly closing the door behind him.

"Kat," she murmured, kicking off her boots and settling back with a sigh.


	6. Chapter 6: No Longer a Lady

Disclaimer: The usual.

Finally! The end is nigh! Well, I hope it turned out well. It took quite a bit of re-writing and…uh…total lack of updating. Eheh. Anyway, short and with possibilities for another, if I ever get around to it. Enjoy!

An hour past dawn found Kat awake and on deck. All her jewels and face paint were gone, and her hair taken down from its elaborate coif and rebraided in one long, simple plait down her back. She walked a little stiffly, after having endured the restriction of a corset for the past few days—one that had pressed and rubbed her back raw enough to make any kind of movement uncomfortable. At the end of the deck, sitting on a rail and gripping a length of rigging, was Laurent; he looked out at the sea, and didn't see her until she was near.

"It looks to be a fair wind," the Barracuda said. "We'll have smooth sailing for a day at least."

Kat smiled a little and leaned against the rail next to him. "And where will that be to, Captain?" she asked.

He glanced down at her, then swung his feet over the rail and slid to the deck. Leaning his back against the rail, he met her eyes with a steady gray-blue gaze. "To wherever I choose. That's a pirate's life, Contessa—without bounds or bonds to hold you back."

Her mouth quirked. "I don't know why you insist on calling me that. I'm not a Contessa anymore—just Kat."

Laurent nodded. "All right—Kat it shall be. I told you last night that we would discuss your future in the morning. So, what will you do now that you are free to choose for yourself, Kat?"

She took a deep breath of the cool, salty air, then another. "I want to sail," she said finally. "I love the sea, and being on a ship. If I went to Tortuga, I imagine I could find a vessel to take me on." Kat looked down the rail at the deck, where a few of the pirates were just starting their work, adjusting rigging and sails. "I suppose I don't have a plan beyond that. I wasn't raised to this life; I don't know if I can survive it. But I will try."

A hand came to rest against her cheek, and she looked up, startled. "Stay on the _Barracuda,_" Laurent said. His voice was soft, and there was a look in his eyes that she had only seen once before—in his cabin, after the affair at the tavern in Tortuga.

Kat's mouth forced itself into a smile to cover the surprise she felt. "Here? Haven't I caused you enough trouble, Señor Barracuda? Why risk having to deal with the displeasure of my family as well as the Spanish Crown? They're likely to send hunters out after me, when they hear what's happened to the Viceroy. That would be a whole new threat to you and your crew. You'd do better to be rid of me, if it came to that."

Laurent didn't move his hand. His eyes had softened, crinkling at the corners as they did when he was amused. "Ah, but perhaps I don't wish to be rid of you, Kat," he said gently. "Did you ever think of that?"

Before she could move, or think to do anything, his lips brushed hers in a soft kiss. A delicious shiver ran through her when he deepened it and slid his hand around the nape of her neck. Her eyes closed, and a burning warmth seemed to spread through her. Laurent broke the kiss, but left his hand where it was and slid the other around her waist to pull her closer. His eyes had a mischievous glint in them as he said, "Can I persuade you to stay?"

Her thoughts were impossibly jumbled, and her pulse pounded in her ears. This had been the other reason he'd kept her on board, the unspoken "perhaps". He had more than taken a liking to her—and, she realized, his feelings did not go unreturned. "I'm dangerous goods, even for a pirate," she said, smiling slowly. "Are you sure you're willing to take those risks?"

For an answer, Laurent bent to kiss her once more. They were both out of breath when the kiss was done, but Laurent recovered quickly and said, "Sail with me as my wife, Katarina, and you would make me very happy."

"Your wife?" She still smiled, but there was a certain firmness in her voice when she spoke again. "Laurent, I just escaped marriage. I never wanted it, not to Alvarado, not to anyone. I'm not ready yet for that kind of bond." She gently disengaged his hands, but didn't push him away. "I love you, Laurent Van Horn, but you'll have to give me time."

For the barest moment, his eyes were sad, but the impression was fleeting. When he reached up to stroke her hair, his touch was all tenderness. "I'll respect that. But you will stay?"

Kat laughed. "Of course. Though I ought to trounce you, Señor Barracuda, for calling me Katarina. I thought we had an understanding." She hooked the dagger out of his belt, tapped him with the point, then spun away, balancing the blade on end at the tips of her fingers. Completing the trick she'd learned from the old guardsman at her home in Mexico, she flipped the dagger into the air, where it flashed in the early morning sun. Chuckling, Laurent plucked it out of the air as it spun toward the deck. "The day you trounce me, my dear, will be the day I'm not fit to command the _Barracuda,"_ he said, shaking the blade at her.

She arched an eyebrow. "You'd best watch yourself then, Laurent. We exiled nobles can be tricky."

Laurent laughed heartily at that. "Enough! To the helm with you, Contessa. If you're to earn your keep on this ship, you're going to learn everything there is to know about sailing her."

"Aye aye, Captain," she replied with a salute. Kat let him lead her down the deck to the ship's wheel. Once she'd taken hold of the smooth wooden grips, he stood behind her, his hands over her own. His presence felt more comfortable, more natural than anything she had known before. She closed her eyes, savoring her freedom, her luck, and the possibilities that lay ahead. They all combined into a heady mix that she could almost taste on the sea air, and she knew that she'd finally found her place.

Then she looked up at Laurent with an exultant grin. "All right, Laurent. Set the course, and be sure it heads us for adventure."


End file.
